bitter || zarry stylik

thirteen

Zayn squeezes Harry's hand lightly, and steps a little bit closer to him. "Harry, I have an idea."

Harry looks away from the fresco, and down at Zayn with a smile. "What is it, Zayn?"

"Maybe we could do what you said. Maybe I could work with you, instead of Carol. Only if you'd like."

Harry thinks that maybe since he's smiling so widely, his cheeks might actually start to hurt. He throws his arms around Zayn, and nods into the crook of his neck. "Yes, please. Carol is a total slacker. No offence to Carol."

Zayn beams, and strokes Harry's hair gently. "Yay! I'm excited, Harry. Would you like me to help you dismiss Carol? I think we could use my PhD to our advantage."

Harry giggles, and pulls away to look at a book on the shelf. "That would be great, thanks. Now that I've showed you my favourite part of the bookstore, I've got to show you my favourite book."

Harry stands up on his tiptoes, and snatches a book from the very top shelf. The book is thin, and small. He hands it to Zayn with a small smile. "Here."

Zayn brushes a fine layer of dust off the cover, and smiles. "Charles Bukowski, huh? You Get So Alone At Times That It Just Makes Sense. I like that."

"It's all very emo, I guess." Harry laughs, and smiles fondly at the tea-stained, dog-eared page Zayn has opened up the book to. "I like it though. It captures what it's like to feel sad and not know why. My favourite quote is probably 'There's no clarity. There was never meant to be clarity.'"

Zayn smiles. "Yes, that is a good one. I also like 'Some men never dies, some men never live. But we're all alive tonight.'"

Harry nods, and takes the book back from Zayn, placing it carefully back up on the shelf. "Would you like a tour of my flat now?"

Zayn strokes Harry's cheek for a second, and nods. "I'd like nothing more. I walked here, so we can ride together, if you'd like."

Harry shivers at the sensation of Zayn's smooth hand on his cheek, and nods. "Yeah, Carol's waiting in the café across the street. She just texted me saying she'd walked here, and she needed a ride back to my flat. So we can talk to her in the car about me switching supervisors."

Zayn pats Harry's back, and follows him across the street to the little café. Harry spots Carol immediately, in her hot pink velour tracksuit and lime green trainers. Zayn raises his eyebrows at the older woman's strange style, but smiles cordially at her as she stands up to shake his hand. "You must be Dr. Malik. I'm Carol Cutts, Harry's caregiver."

Zayn nearly chokes his spit, and feels his eyes widen. Carol's last name is Cutts? How ironic. "Yes, I'm Zayn. Harry is giving me a tour of his flat, so I'll be riding home with you two. Also, Ms. Cutts, I'd like to discuss something with you regarding Harry's treatment."

Carol raises an eyebrow, and glances at Harry suspiciously. "Oh, what have you done now, Harry? Requested OxyContin or something?"

Harry blushes, and Zayn's face pales. "Um, no ma'am. Harry has done nothing. I will be taking over the supervision of Harry, as I am his doctor, and I'd like to conduct a study of Harry's behaviours. So, until further notice, you will no longer be needed."

Carol's face remains blank for a moment, before her entire face turns from red to purple. Harry isn't sure she's breathing right. "How dare you! You think you can just waltz in here and fire me! The nerve! I do a great job watching Harry!"

"Contrariwise, Carol. You drink far too much, and are late practically all the time. Your behaviour is unacceptable, and will no longer be tolerated. This is a doctor's order. Goodbye."

Damn, Harry thinks. Zayn just made me swoon a little. I think I'm in love.